A Miracle of Christmases Fate
by Myrddin Ignis Magus
Summary: Christmas special. Harry doesn't like Christmas because he lacks family to enjoy it with. But what misadventures happen when Santa retires and hands over the job to Harry? Set during 5th year. Some bashing here and there, and plenty of mayhem. Spoof-ish! Many pairings, and just plain craziness!


_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or Christmas, go figure.**_

**A Miracle of Christmases Fate**

**Chapter I**

**"Santa!"**

Harry hated this holiday. Not because he didn't believe in Jesus or a god. He didn't, but that wasn't the reason he hated Christmas. Christmas had transcended religion and became about family, Santa, and other stupid fairy tales. He never had a family before. Well the family he had had hated him, loathed his 'company', not that he ever cared about them. They never allowed him to celebrate the holiday with them. Leaving him locked away in the cupboard under the stairs after he had made their delicious Christmas dinner.

The only Christmas the fifteen-year-old boy had enjoyed was his eleventh. It was only because he didn't know any better. He had gotten presents. It had been a brief time of magic and a thought that Santa didn't forget him that year like all the years before. He had grown out of the concept that a jolly old man with white hair and beard would save him many years ago. However, it was realising that a non-Christmas type man, Albus Dumbledore, head master of Hogwarts with his white beard and hair would never consent to save him either that he figured, screw it all.

Why should he even pretend to enjoy the holiday? He just shooed his friends away at the holiday, 'forcing' them home. He didn't want to be the downer for their family fun. He's pretty sure that Ronald still believes in Christmas and whatever, maybe Santa Claus somewhere. Hermione is too rational to keep that childishness, even passed eleven for that matter, but she still had a family to enjoy the holiday with.

However, this year both Ron and Hermione, like the year before with that ball thing and the tournament chose to stay with him. It bothered him a bit, but more so that Ron's whole family was staying too, just to keep him company since he was too stubborn and depressed to go to the Weasley's.

It didn't help matters that he had been forced by a stupid old dude with white beard and hair to learn the art of mind protection (occlumency) from a greasy haired douche bag even more humbug about Christmas than him, and then some about every other holiday and enjoyable event. If you wanted a party ruined within the first hour, hang out with him at said party.

Harry had never, nor will he ever trust Severus Snape, the greasy potions teacher, and his faith in Dumbledore was near a puddle of goop. Therefore, he did something bright for once and ordered a few books on occlumency. They helped a lot more than Snape's way. He expected Harry to just clear his mind. Snape may have little in his head to clear away but Harry had lots.

The grease ball wasn't even teaching the way he should, no big surprise there. He was starting off on a method that would put a migraine on an adult. He didn't start from the beginning. The beginning teaches of meditation and gathering your thought, keeping a hold of insignificant things such as every day school lessons, hanging out with your friends, playing games, or even sexual fantasy, which he was surprised once he got the hang of it how much he had.

Then, after that is using magical mental pathways, or imagination to hide the important thought or memories. Then after that, magical mind barriers that prevent access in the first place. Then last, clearing the mind, masking its existence altogether. After which you could go onto making memories, faking thoughts and other things along these lines. It showed that Snape was not trying very hard to teach Harry how to protect his mind from this possible connection from Voldemort.

The look on Snape's face now when Harry doesn't bat an eyelid at his attacks. It is priceless. Occlumency isn't all that hard once you have a book. Much easier to learn than with an incompetent teacher. He hadn't had any Voldemort visions in two months, so all was relatively good until he realised it was only three weeks until Christmas. The first of December. Then depression started settling. He could hear the younger children, first and second years, mostly purebloods talking about Santa and presents he'll deliver when they go home for the holidays.

Harry could have laughed. He had thought a few times about dispelling their dreams and ruining Christmas for them with the truth. Santa. Father Christmas. He does NOT exist. That he is just a pathetic dream. He is but a fable that adults made up.

He never did take away their dreams. The thought of breaking their hearts actually hurt him. He couldn't bring himself too. He figured that he had become a big soft idiot. He remembered a time when he was all about survival. Surviving the Dursleys. He had even harboured thoughts of vengeance against the self-centred pieces of filth.

Rubbing his tired eyes as he was leaving the castle, heading towards Hogsmead, the ground was snowy. Hermione and Ron were nowhere in sight. He just wanted a change of scenery. His cloudy green eyes looked down as something hit his feet. He was just wearing some warm robes over some new clothes he finally got to buying himself as a treat, black combats for the pockets, black tee, and black hoody with white trainers. His black robes was bone up with a matching cloak with hood pulled up with artificial fur since he didn't like the thought of how those animals were kept let alone needlessly killed.

It was a stuffed reindeer toy with a red nose. He pushed his glasses up his nose properly as he crouched down and picked it up. He stood, holding it in his gloved hand, looking it over when a small girl pulled to a stop in front of him, looking expectantly at the toy.

He couldn't not smile a little at the girl as he handed the toy over. "T-thank you, Harry!" she said brightly as she charged off. It showed that so many people knew his name as she was in Ravenclaw. It also showed him that it wasn't just Gryffindor's that loved Christmas.

Sighing he internally shrugged as he trudged through the snow, soon exiting the school grounds and into the village. He found the Three Broomsticks, packed, or over packed, and after grabbing a butterbeer squeezed his way out so he could find a quiet place to mope.

He found a cold snowy bench and slumped down on it, taking a swig of his drink. It was warming, which he should be thankful for, but he felt like he should suffer more cold just to remind himself that his life sucked shit pie. He wasn't allowed to do what he wanted. He wasn't allowed to live away from his family no matter the fact they're child abusers. He couldn't even chose to have a peaceful school year without some joke ruining it.

That Umbridge woman ruined this year! She was just a ministry stooge, but in the end she is in it for herself and no one but herself. If she continues the way she was, Harry doesn't know whether he'll just snap and kill her or not. He hates the way she'll even torment small children. Then she uses that quill on 'troublemakers' and… she is one word away from a one-way ticket off the moving stairs while they're moving.

"Now now, there are more imaginative ways than that, Mr. Potter!"

Harry almost choked to death as he had taken a sip of butterbeer when the man spoke rather jovially. He was a large man with round belly and long white hair and beard. He was wearing a red suit with white tie and long red coat with fluffy white trim.

"How the hell did you-?"

"Magic!" the old man replied, laughing, his brilliant blue eyes sparkling a mile a minute. The sparkle was more intense than anything Albus Dumbledore could pull off and more captivating, but what Harry wondered most of all was how this man smelt of home baked cookies, even greater than Molly Weasley could make. He seemed to radiate this captivating scent.

"Y-yeah," Harry said, sheepish. "Weirdness, answer, magic," he replied as he calmed down, but then with this guy he couldn't help but feel calm, relaxed and even content to a degree.

The 'jolly' man laughed heartily. "Yep, good bit of wisdom you have there!" he agreed, nodding his head, smiling ever brighter. "So Harry, you don't believe in Christmas?" he asked, startling the fifteen year old.

"Of course not!" he agreed before he realised what was asked. "How the heck do you know that anyway?"

"I'm the spirit of Christmas-!"

"You telling me you're Santa…?" he said before trailing off. "I didn't know the magical world did those poor excuses for Santa's the muggles have."

The old man sighed. "Believe in magic, but now Santa!" he said shaking his head. "I heard every wish, every dream, but even my magic could not break Dumbledore's ward of blood. Your blood wanted your holiday ruined, so I could not intervene. I wanted to, and I sent elves to… cheat a little at other times during the years. That was all I could do, no more, and over the years I have felt dread."

"Don't fuck with me old man!" he retorted, standing and moving away from the obviously deranged old timer. "There is no such thing as Santa!"

The plump man in red smirked. "Oh, but there is. You finally don't consider the Dursley's family enough that I can finally grant you a wish. A wish so deep, and honestly, I've been doing this for too long."

"W-what do you mean?" he asked, concerned.

"You're Santa now Harry," he said to the boys befuddlement. "Its time my wife and I retire, Tahiti sounds nice."

"W-wait, what?" he asked as the man suddenly disappeared in a blast of wind and snow.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, knowing his hood back, confused. "Okay, weirder things have happened to me, but that guy was not Santa. I am not Santa!" he reaffirmed himself as he threw his empty drink bottle into the trash.

Walking back into the main village was uneventful. However, once entering the school ground he noticed the odd looks he would get from the younger students. It was as if they couldn't believe their eyes. Then he noticed that lots of kids had followed him into the great hall. However, ignoring that oddness he sat with his friends, Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table for dinner.

"Harry!?" Hermione asked slowly and careful to make sure he isn't going to explode at her. "Why are all of these little kids staring at you?" she asked, sounding and looking nervous.

He looked around at all the awestruck kids and gulped as he turned in his seat to see an eleven-year-old boy standing right next to him with little brown eyes glued to him wearing a Slytherin badge.

"SANTA!"

The boy screamed and the other kids scrambled over tables, stampeding older kids and teachers out of the way, as the little Slytherin hopped onto his lap giving him a hug. Harry could only stare, unable to do more as the boy went off on a tirade of Christmas wishes. The other children watching in awe as he went on and on about everything and nothing.

"T-then, the most important thing!" he said with teary eyes. "I don't want mummy and daddy to join the mean old Death Eaters and hurt people!" he said before hopping off his lap after giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Then a small girl hopped up onto his lap hugging him. "Santa! Can you wrap up a pony? Mommy and daddy said that a pony is too much?" she said and asked, blushing. He almost laughed when suddenly an angry throat noise cut across the hall and everyone paused looking to her, the fat toad woman with bad dress sense.

"Mr. Potter! What do you think you are doing?" she demanded but didn't await a reply. "Detention for you and everyone of those foolish, lying children!" she said causing horror to lapse onto their faces.

Harry stood, holding the girl in his arms, and the room froze again as it was engulfed in warmth. "Dolores Jane Umbridge, Naughty List since she was six years old…" he said angrily when he stopped, surprised by his words. He couldn't explain it but just felt them slip out. "Because her family were inconsiderate, never there she had to ruin the holidays for everyone else. In later life she'll go on to kill both of her parents and torture innocent children!"

"L-lies!" she went on, stuttering.

"I will not tell lies!" he retorted raising his right hand while holding the girl in his left while, she snuggled happily. The outline of those marks visible to his skin. "Umbridge, under tradition and lore I wonder how many families you have marred and dishonoured, pureblood or not, lore is lore and you have assaulted enough!"

"N-nonsense!" she cried out. "The boy doesn't know anything! He is nothing but a foolish liar!"

"Prove it!" he retorted snidely.

Harry's eye blinked open and he sat up quickly, startled, confused and still sleepy. "I-huh… was that… dam stupid Santa dream!" he mumbled as he climbed out of bed, cleaned up and got dressed.

He didn't realise it but he dressed in some red trousers and a green top, bare foot as he walked down the stairs out of the dorm as its empty. Harry was a little confused, but that was only added to as he entered the common room to cheers, little kids jumping up onto him, hugging him, and kissing his cheeks.

"Okay!" he muttered to himself, fearful as he held a boy and girl in an arm each to keep them from falling and hurting themselves, baffled.

"There is no such thing as-!"

Hermione cried off at the end as she and Ron were trampled through the portrait hole by a small army of first and second years as they had tried to keep them out.

"Santa!" they all cried out in joy as Harry gulped as they all jumped him, super-mega-no-return-hugging him to 'death'.

Harry realised that he had just found another reason to hate Christmas even if it were coated in adorable little 'bunnies'.


End file.
